


homecoming

by timelordswillwasteyou



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, Coming In Pants, Cookies, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, Homecoming, Hot Chocolate, Love Confessions, M/M, Meeting the Parents, hip kink?, this all started because i wanted Fushimi to get his hair braided, throat swabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordswillwasteyou/pseuds/timelordswillwasteyou
Summary: Yata takes Saruhiko home for Christmas as his boyfriend for the first time. Cookies, video games, and possibly inappropriate activities ensue.
Relationships: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> usual apologies for the terrible title and summary. had this idea in my head for a couple weeks and had to get it out. happy holidays and enjoy :)

Yata doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing outside the front door of his childhood home, his arms around a trembling Saruhiko. He’s been nervous ever since he agreed to Yata’s suggestion of going home to spend the holiday with his family. Yata knew he’d only agreed because he realized how much it meant to him, of course, but if he’d known Saruhiko would react like _this_ he might have reconsidered suggesting it in the first place.

“They already love you,” he tells Saruhiko for the tenth time since they arrived. “So you don’t need to worry about that.” He doesn’t know why Saruhiko is so _terrified_ \- it’s just his family, what does he think they’re going to do?

Saruhiko buries his face harder into the join between Yata’s neck and shoulder, his arms tightening around his waist. If he wasn’t scared, Yata would think the way he’s acting was...cute. He blushes at the thought, fingers gripping harder at Saruhiko’s shoulders, and realizes a moment later that he’s speaking again. “It’s not that,” he mutters, cold lips moving against Yata’s skin. “It’s...” he starts, then trails off, raises his head, trains his eyes somewhere on Yata’s scarf, bites his lips, already red from the habit and the cold. He looks damn attractive. Yata’s face heats again. _Not the time_ , he scolds himself.

Saruhiko watches his chin for a moment, then finally trails his gaze up Yata’s face to meet his eyes. “What if...” A deep breath, visible in the cold air. He blinks, watching his boyfriend’s face intently. “What if they don’t approve? Of us.”

 _Of me_ , Yata hears.

 _Oh_ , he thinks.

“You’re an idiot,” he says out loud. Saruhiko blinks at him. “I mean...” Dammit, he’s blushing again. “Saruhiko...it’s like I said, they already love you. My mom asks about you more than me, and so do the twins. They miss your hair. Mom misses cooking for you, missing worrying over you. They miss...” More heat in his cheeks. This is ridiculous, he needs to pull it together, it’s just Saruhiko. “They miss the kind of person I am when you’re around.” Saruhiko’s eyes widen, and Yata looks away, fidgeting with the soft red fringe on Saruhiko’s scarf. Saruhiko’s fingers move to grip his, stopping his fidgeting, and Yata meets his eyes again, determined. “I mean - fuck, Saru, my mom has known since we were in middle school! How I f-feel about you, I mean. She couldn’t be happier! She even made...food you’ll like, and...” He raises his hands to cup Saruhiko’s face, the shape of it familiar against his fingers, and strokes the soft place underneath each of his eyes, the skin cold from standing out here so long. They should really go inside. Yata smiles softly, feeling Saruhiko melt into him a little in response. He’s so in love with this man. “They’re your family too now, you know. You’re amazing, y’know? I want to share you with them, just for today.” He raises himself up on his toes to press their cold, dry lips together, feeling the familiar pulse of warmth through his body and soul as he does so, and he can’t stop smiling now that he’s started. “Let’s go inside, Saruhiko.”

Saruhiko opens his eyes - he’d closed them for their brief kiss - to reveal one of the softest looks Yata’s ever seen in them. He puts his hands around the back of Yata’s neck, pulls him close, kisses him deeply, and through the flood of love he can feel Saruhiko begin to smile against his mouth. Saruhiko pulls away only to kiss him briefly once more, then releases his neck and takes his hand, finally turning so abruptly toward the front door that he nearly bumps the plastic wreath hanging there. Yata suppresses a giggle. “Okay, Misaki.”

~

A few hours later, Yata is lounging on the couch, playing Mario Kart with his younger brother. Saruhiko sits on the floor nearby, under the kotatsu - he’s always cold, Yata needs to scold him again for being so skinny, though his mother has that covered for today - as his little sister plays with the ends of his hair. Earlier, between cleaning the kitchen from breakfast and prepping for dinner, Yata and his mother had taken turns teaching the little ones how to braid; they had both demanded to be taught, as they both wanted to braid Saruhiko’s hair. Of course, neither of them are very good at it, but Yata will fix it later and they’re both having fun, so he mostly lets them be. After a heated game of rock-paper-scissors, Megumi had emerged victorious, and so she was trying her hand at braiding first.

Saruhiko, for his part, looks pretty content; Yata’s siblings love him even more after the gifts he’d brought (two scarves matching Saruhiko’s own, the doll Megumi’s been wanting - Yata still hasn’t figured out how he knew that - and the game he and Minoru are playing now). They probably like him more than Yata at this point. Yata couldn’t be happier with the state of his life.

His mother walks in after a while, bringing five cups of hot chocolate on a ceramic tray Yata knows belonged to her mother and a plate of the oatmeal raisin cookies Yata had helped her bake earlier. Yata smiles at her, scooting over on the couch to make room, and she sits beside him, Saruhiko and Megumi on the floor in front of her. She picks up Megumi - they’re almost too big to do that with now - and gestures to Yata to switch her and Minoru so he can have a turn at braiding. Megumi doesn’t even protest, just happily picks up Minoru’s controller and joins in the video game as Minoru starts messing with Saruhiko’s hair.

Without taking his eyes off the screen (he’s added all the settings to make the game easier to his siblings’ controller, though he would never tell them that), Yata leans into his mother; he’s missed her warmth, the comfort of her presence, the smell of her. Moments later, Saruhiko leans back into his legs, using them as a backrest, and his hand covers Yata’s foot, his thumb gently stroking the sole of it. He smiles, unable to remember the last time he felt this content, this...complete.

On the floor, Minoru groans. “I can’t get it to do the...the thing!” he whines. Saruhiko chuckles, his eyes meeting Yata’s for a moment, and then Yata’s mother is moving to take over.

“Do you mind if I try, sweetie?” she asks Saruhiko, and Yata isn’t sure she understands how much it means that she’s addressing him like that. He nods silently, turning his head back to face the screen, and then she begins neatly braiding a small section on the right side of his head. Yata hands his controller to Minoru so Yata can watch her work. When she’s done, she pins the braid to the side of Saruhiko's head with a simple black bobby pin Yata hadn’t seen her get, and then she claps her hands together. “There we go! Turn around, sweetie, let’s get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Saruhiko turns around, and Yata notices that his cheeks have colored a little. The kids ooh and ah at their handiwork while Saruhiko’s eyes meet his. Yata feels his own face heat up; Saruhiko looks...

“My, you look handsome!” his mother says. _That's an understatement_ , Yata thinks. The way his hair is pulled back off his face highlights the shape of his cheekbones, the pale of his skin against the dark of his hair, the bright, eager blue of his eyes boring into Yata’s. Fuck. If his family wasn’t around... “No wonder Misaki likes you,” his mother is saying, and he blushes even harder. Saruhiko smirks; he’s definitely noticed. If he keeps that up Yata might be affected even with his family here, and that’s...not okay, seriously.

Minoru and Megumi are touching his hair again, and Saruhiko turns his head to show off his braids. They start chattering to him, arguing over which of them helped braid the best, and Yata’s mother taps his shoulder, gesturing to the plates and mugs lying on the kotatsu. Yata nods and stretches and leans down to peck Saruhiko’s cheek - “Gross!” yells Minoru - before following her into the kitchen.

They rinse and put away the dishes in silence for a few moments, the soft sounds of his siblings chattering away to Saruhiko drifting in from the living room. Yata knows his mother has something to say to him, and he turns around to lean on the counter near the sink so he can face her while he continues drying the damp dishes she passes him.

After breakfast, he and Saruhiko had sat down with her as his siblings settled down for their mid-day naps, bellies heavy with French toast and syrup. Yata was sure she’d known since they walked in, but he still wanted to tell her properly, and he knew that as nervous as Saruhiko was, he also wanted some sort of confirmation that his mother would accept him. She knew a little of their falling out - Yata hadn’t given her the details, but he had mentioned that they had reconciled and were close again; anything else she’d known, she’d figured out on her own, and she'd sat down on the love seat across from them with a knowing smile.

Despite his certainty that she’d be okay with it, Yata’s hands had clenched at his thighs, and he could feel Saruhiko tense beside him. He had steeled himself, reminded himself it’s just his mother; she’ll love him no matter what.

He snaps back to the present, placing a mug behind him on the drying rack. “Thanks for having us, mom. I’m...we’re having a really nice time.”

She takes another chocolate-y mug from the counter and starts rinsing it. Yata can see the edge of her smile. “Of course. I’m thrilled to have you home. It’s been too long. Don’t apologize,” she adds, anticipating his regretful response. Yata closes his mouth, lets her continue. “It’s a joy to have you here. Both of you.” She passes him the mug, turning fully this time to face him, hands in the pockets of the white apron that reads ‘Santa’s big helper’ that she’s had for as long as he can remember.

“Fushimi’s grown into quite the handsome boy,” she says, smiling when Yata starts blushing again. “And he seems more...settled than I remember. I know you two fell out of touch for a few years but I imagine you had something to do with that.”

Yata fidgets with the mug she’s handed him, pretends to examine a blemish on the kitchen tile. “Yeah. He’s...changed a lot. For the better, I think. We both have,” he adds, reaching to put the mug on the drying rack beside him. “I-I really like him, mom,” he says, then decides he might as well be honest with her, and rewinds, “I...I love him.” He’s blushing again, shit, when is this going to stop? “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

She smiles, and he leans off the counter to meet her hug. “You’ve always seemed so happy around him. Of course I noticed.” He squeezes her tighter, burying his face in her collarbone and breathing in the smell of oatmeal and her. “And it’s the same for him. You’re good for each other, I can tell.” She pulls away to look at him, gripping his arms firmly in her hands. “I’m so proud of you, Misaki. I want you to know that.” Yata can feel his eyes burning as she continues. “I love you so much. I love you both, you know that, right?”

Yata nods, falling back into the warmth and comfort of her arms. A few moments later, the twins run into the kitchen, joining in their embrace. Yata breaks away, smiling at his mother again, notices movement out of the corner of his eye and turns to see Saruhiko standing there, arms wrapped around himself and glasses askew and hot chocolate residue on his upper lip. Yata crosses the room to him, wiping the chocolate off his mouth before bringing his face down to gently press their lips together.

“Thank you,” he whispers when they part.

Saruhiko smiles, strokes the side of Yata’s neck just under his ear, one of his favorite spots to touch. “Thank _you_ ,” he responds, and throws his other arm around Yata’s shoulders.

Yata’s siblings run over to pull on his pajama bottoms, having been released from his mother’s embrace. She walks over, smiling warmly at them. “I’m putting them to bed, and I think I’ll go to bed myself. Would you two mind putting away the dry dishes before you go to sleep?” Yata shakes his head, pulling Saruhiko closer against his side. “Thank you,” she continues, “and thank you both for coming. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast. Don’t stay up too late!” She gives Yata a knowing look, and how is there even enough blood left in his body to turn his face this hot?

“Goodnight, mom,” he manages, and Saruhiko mutters a tiny, “Thanks,” and then she and the twins are off.

They stand there for a few moments, listening to the soft padding of feet as Yata’s family ascends to their bedrooms. Then Saruhiko turns his head into Yata’s neck, mouths at the skin under his ear, sinks his teeth into his earlobe, and any self-control Yata had retained by virtue of the close proximity of his family melts away.

Yata turns to kiss him properly because he’s been waiting to for hours, for years. “Misaki,” breathes Saruhiko, and Yata’s already about half hard from the feel of his breath and lips and fingers and _him_.

He presses Saruhiko into the kitchen door frame, fingers gripping at his hips and thumbs stroking the spaces between his hips and groin. It’s a spot that never fails to make Saruhiko moan, and this time is no different, his boyfriend pressing himself into his touch. It had surprised him, at first, how sensitive Saruhiko was; he guesses he’d expected someone so apparently aloof on the outside to be able to handle more than a few strokes to his hipbones before falling apart, but Yata’s found so many spots like this in the few months they’ve been together he’s lost count. He’s sure there are more. He can’t wait to find them.

Now isn’t the time, though, with Saruhiko already panting at Yata’s touch and breathing Yata’s name into his mouth, so Yata just presses him harder into the wall as they make out in his mother’s kitchen.

The kitchen... “Saruhiko,” he mumbles. The man in question bites his collarbone, practically chewing at his shirt at the spot over his Homra tattoo. “Shit, Saruhiko, wait - the dishes,” he gasps as his shirt collar is pushed aside to make way for Saruhiko’s mouth.

“Mm,” is the response he gets, followed by a wet trail licked up toward his neck. This is something else he hadn’t expected: Saruhiko being _so into_ practically worshiping his skin. It almost distracts him from the ridiculous thing Saruhiko says next, mumbled into his neck, “I’d like to do your dishes.” He pushes his erection into Yata’s hip before he can comment.

Yata groans, kisses him roughly again, then shoves him away, making a run for the now-dry dishes to put them away before this gets out of hand. He doesn’t hear Saruhiko follow him but as he picks up the third mug he can feel his presence behind him, and by the fourth the man has pressed himself along Yata’s back, rocking his hips into Yata’s backside and breathing roughly into the hair at his nape.

“ _Misaki_ ,” he whines, and he sounds gone already. Yata can’t put the last mug away fast enough.

As soon as he finishes, he flips around, pushing his hips against Saruhiko’s and capturing their groans in the demanding kiss he presses to now-warm and wet lips. He returns his hands to their rightful place at Saruhiko’s hips, using the leverage to push him backward toward the stairs. He pulls back for a second when they reach the living room, examines Saruhiko’s face - flushed, desperate, sexier than Yata can really handle - and quickly changes his mind, guiding them toward the couch in the living room instead; if they go upstairs, where his family is likely sleeping by now, there’s a bigger risk they’ll wake them up. There’s still a risk down here, of course, but Yata can’t bring himself to stop; he’ll deal with any commentary they get in the morning.

For now, all he can think about is Saruhiko, who’s taken advantage of Yata’s wandering mind to push him onto the couch, draping himself over him as they fall somewhat unceremoniously onto the cushions. Distantly, Yata realizes he can hear the faint buzz of electronics, realizes they never turned off the TV. Hopefully his mom won’t come down and catch them like this, he thinks as Saruhiko drags the backs of his knuckles over Yata’s clothed cock.

“Shit, Saru,” he moans. “How long have you - ” Saruhiko’s fingers grip the shape of him, giving him pause for a moment. “Ah, mm...Saru, do you - you too, Saru, c’mon - ”

Saruhiko pulls back a little, stares at his face for a moment, then leans back on his heels to take off his dark blue flannel, one arm at a time. It isn’t really a dress shirt but Saruhiko makes it look like one, the dark color bringing out his eyes and the wiry strength of his forearms where the sleeves are rolled back. He had protested halfheartedly when Yata had suggested he wear it. Now he almost wishes he’d listened. He looks too fucking sexy and doesn’t even realize it.

Yata snaps out of his daze, sitting up on his elbows and reaching to help pull the soft fabric off Saruhiko’s shoulders. He’s wearing a simple v-neck underneath, and Yata immediately reaches out to bunch that up over his stomach too, kissing up Saruhiko’s stomach as he does it. He tongues all the spots he knows will make his boyfriend squirm: his bellybutton, the spot where his ribs end, the same spot on the other side, the warm skin just around his nipples. He pushes the shirt up over his arms, and when Saruhiko doesn’t move to help, says, “Saru, move your arms, c’mon.”

Saruhiko finally does, and when the shirt is off and wherever Saruhiko tossed it, he gazes down at Yata, eyes glazed over and lidded, and Yata gasps at how wanton he looks. His fingers find the back of Yata’s head, gripping the hair there and bringing his face down to his hips and pressing it there. Yata can take a hint; he opens his mouth, sucking a bruise into Saruhiko’s left hip, hands at the ready to keep him from bucking too much.

He pulls back after a few moments to catch a breath, gasping, “Saru, shit - you’re so hot.” He moves his head a little lower, breathing dampness and warmth over Saruhiko’s trapped cock, making the man squirm and moan. Saruhiko drags him back up and presses an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, forcing his tongue inside Yata and using the momentum to push him back down on the couch. The cushions are old, soft with years of wear, and Yata can already feel them sinking into them; the couch is thin, too, so he keeps one foot on the ground as his other leg comes up to brace around Saruhiko’s hip and hook around the back of his thigh.

Like this, their erections press together hotly, and Saruhiko doesn’t waste any time in grinding his crotch down hard into Yata’s. They let out twin groans, Saruhiko’s muffled into his neck. He’ll never get over how good this feels, the two of them rocking together, the warmth of Saruhiko’s dick pulsing against his. He could come just from this so, so easily, but he wants more.

As soon as he has the thought, Saruhiko raises himself up on his elbows, gazing down at Yata with that fucked-out look, his hips still moving a little against Yata’s. He thinks he can feel the heartbeat pulse in Saruhiko’s erection even through several layers of clothing. He shivers at the thought.

“Misaki,” Saruhiko mutters. Yata’s gaze flicks to his mouth; it’s red from biting and making out. He imagines those lips around him and has to dig his fingers into Saruhiko’s hips to ground himself. Saruhiko continues, breathing a little ragged, “Your family...seems to be okay with us.” Yata blinks. It’s true, they do, but he doesn’t really want to talk about his family right now. But Saruhiko probably has a reason for saying this, so he bites his lip against his protests. Saruhiko lowers himself a little, still using his elbows for leverage, and whispers against Yata’s ear, “Think they’d still be okay with it if they knew how many times I’ve fantasized about blowing you on this couch?”

Yata bites his lip harder, his hips canting up involuntarily. “S-Saruhiko...really? Shit.” Saruhiko bites his earlobe as Yata trembles at the confession.

He isn’t finished, apparently. “Mm,” he confirms. “Even when we were in middle school...” He sucks at Yata’s neck, tracing his vein down to the hollow of his throat. Yata gulps. “I wanted to push you down here,” he pushes at Yata’s hips in demonstration, “and kiss you,” he kisses Yata’s tattoo, mouth open against it. “Wanted to kiss all of you.” He raises his eyes, stares into Yata’s, repeats, “ _All_ of you.”

Yata opens his mouth to respond or gasp. Nothing comes out. He tries again, manages to whimper, “Saru.” He strokes Saruhiko’s jawline, Saruhiko’s eyes flickering shut for a moment before he meets Yata’s gaze again and turns his head to take the tip of Yata’s thumb between his lips. He sucks, lidded eyes still on Yata’s. “Saru,” he groans again, louder.

Saruhiko releases him and continues his descent down Yata’s body and his confessions. “Wanted to do this forever,” he says, lifting Yata’s shirt to lick a stripe up his left side, from his hip to his armpit. He shifts over a little and sucks at a nipple. Yata feels helpless, helplessly aroused, helplessly twitching under Saruhiko’s ministrations, and he just doesn’t stop talking. “Want to make you fucking lose it in your childhood home.” He’s kissing along Yata’s waistband now, working along the length of it, and Yata can feel his breath on his crotch. He grips Saruhiko’s hair hard, pulling at the strands and moaning, encouraging. “I want to make Misaki feel good. Want you in me, in m-my mouth,” he breathes. “Want you to...” he hesitates, biting his lower lip before pressing to whisper his next words against Yata’s clothed erection. “Want to choke on you.”

Yata’s figured out by now that Saruhiko has some masochistic tendencies, but nothing could have prepared him for _that_. His breath stutters out, fingers still pulling at Saruhiko’s hair, catching on one of the braids and yanking, and Saruhiko moans, presses his cheek to Yata’s dick and rubs his face along it like a fucking cat. Yata really can’t take this anymore. “S-Saru...” The man in question is still gazing at him. “D-do it then,” he manages. “Ch-choke on me.”

Saruhiko’s mouth falls open, but other than that he doesn’t waste any time unbuttoning Yata’s dark jeans. He pulls his boxers down just enough to free his cock and immediately fastens his mouth to the sensitive triangle just under his tip, sucking hard. Yata groans, feeling himself leak precum onto his lower belly.

Saruhiko moves his head up, takes all of Yata’s tip into his mouth for a moment, laps at the precum forming there. Then he pulls back, and it looks like he’s considering something; Yata watches his face, stroking at his braids. A moment later Saruhiko is moving, kneeling on his haunches on the floor and grabbing Yata’s hips to rotate his body so his back is against the back of the couch. Yata can’t even process that - how did he even move Yata’s _whole body_? - before Saruhiko’s mouth is back on him, determined this time.

Saruhiko is really very good at this, Yata thinks as his mind melts and his body sinks into the old cushions, his fingers yanking at Saruhiko’s hair. Saruhiko is only using his mouth, alternating between licking up the sides of his cock and taking the whole thing at once and bobbing on it. It feels unbelievably good, but distantly he realizes Saruhiko’s hands are gripping at his thighs, hears a whine at the back of his throat - feels it, too, the vibration of it traveling up what feels like his whole nervous system from his dick - and thinks, _oh_.

Saruhiko hasn’t been touched at all. Yata really, really wants to change that.

He weaves his fingers into Saruhiko’s hair; he wants to see his face when he does this. Saruhiko opens his eyes, the ducts of them a little wet from taking Yata so quickly, and mostly pulls off of him, the tip still in his mouth. Yata trembles at the sight. He keeps his eyes on that handsome, debauched face as he shifts his foot to press against his crotch.

Saruhiko moans loud, and Yata feels him tremble for a moment - with arousal or laughter, he doesn’t know, but a moment later he’s shutting himself up with Yata’s dick so Yata doesn’t much care to figure it out. He keeps his foot rubbing against Saruhiko, this time positive he can feel the pulse of him alongside the vibrations around the tip of his cock as it slips into Saruhiko’s throat.

Yata won’t last long like this, with Saruhiko rutting himself against Yata’s foot and the muscles of his throat swallowing around him, pulling him in deeper. One of his hands moves down to the side of Saruhiko’s neck, and on his next thrust into his mouth Yata can feel his dick on the _outside_ of his throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moans. “S-Saru...y-your thro-Shit!” Saruhiko swallows around him again, and Yata feels it in both places this time. He feels himself skirting close to the edge, and he knows Saruhiko can tell by the way he redoubles his efforts. He’s leaking precum down Saruhiko’s throat, the muscles of it working as he swallows it, and he’s pushing himself hard against Yata’s foot, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes his moans into Yata’s cock, and with their gazes still locked, Yata comes undone. He pulses his release into his boyfriend’s mouth as he strokes down the side of Saruhiko’s neck to feel his own cock inside.

It feels like his orgasm lasts forever. Saruhiko keeps milking him, nearly gagging himself (and he wants that, Yata reminds himself), his hips still moving against the back of Yata’s foot, and just as Yata’s starting to come down he feels Saruhiko’s whole body jerk and a flood of wetness pulses out against his foot. Saruhiko shakes through his release, still sucking lightly on the soft triangle on the underside of Yata’s spent cock, and Yata watches him, stroking his jaw, mesmerized. Saruhiko’s just come in his pants, mostly just from blowing Yata. _Fuck_.

When he’s done he collapses against Yata’s legs, and Yata chuckles. “Up here, Saru, c’mon,” he encourages, half-dragging his boyfriend’s boneless body back up to the couch, where he immediately snuggles into Yata’s neck, arms going around his waist. Yata smiles, returning his embrace.

“Misaki,” Saruhiko mutters against his neck.

Yata strokes at the small of his back, more content than he’s felt in awhile. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Saruhiko, that was, I just, wow.” He kisses Saruhiko’s hair, lips catching on the nearly unraveled braid.

Saruhiko shifts onto one elbow to peer at him. Yata notices his glasses are gone, probably on the floor, lost during their lovemaking. His lips are swollen, his eyes still glazed over a bit, his gaze focused solely on Yata. He looks beautiful. “Eloquent as ever, Misaki,” he comments in the teasing voice that used to infuriate Yata; now, it only makes him smile harder.

Saruhiko’s other hand comes up to stroke Yata’s face, his thumb resting on the place where the edge of Yata’s eye meets his upper cheek. “Misaki,” he mumbles again. “Misaki, I...” He’s biting his lip, eyes flitting between Yata’s. Yata furrows his brow, tightening his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. He watches as Saruhiko steels himself, blue eyes determined. “I love you. Misaki.”

Yata’s lips part, then close, and he watches heat flood Saruhiko’s cheeks as he glances to the side, fidgeting. It’s the first time either of them have said it; he can’t believe Saruhiko beat him to it. He snaps out of it before his boyfriend can go getting insecure or regret saying anything. He smiles, fingers gently moving Saruhiko’s face back toward his own. “God, Saruhiko. I’m...I love you too, you know that, yeah?” Saruhiko blushes harder, pushes his face back into Yata’s collarbone. “God, you’re cute.” He giggles, hugging Saruhiko tight against him. “I love you so much.”

He can feel Saruhiko’s smile, feel and hear his small, “Mm.” They fall asleep like that, on the couch he grew up on, in the house he grew up in, and he’s never felt so loved. He gets the feeling Saruhiko feels the same.

(In the morning, Yata’s mother finds them just like that, snuggled under the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, and smiles to herself. At least they put the mugs away first and kept their voices down - mostly.)

**Author's Note:**

> if you got this far, i'm sorry, and also thanks. comments and kudos are as usual so appreciated.


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